“Well we’ve already come to the conclusion that you’re no cook so what would you know?”
I switch from beer to water and chug a cool glass of it while Livvie checks on the boys. From my vantage point at the window, I see Ben helping the boys take turns sitting on the motorcycle. I find myself smiling when Donnie nearly falls off the thing. Both of them are laughing and smiling openly for the first time since I’ve been home.
After dinner, the boys are fully absorbed in the newest first-person shooter with Ben. I would even go so far as to say they’ve had a good time. Both got second helpings of dessert and neither have shown much attitude. In the interest of being transparent with myself, I know that’s mostly Livvie’s doing. Her easy-going nature makes everyone feel at home. Plus, her brownies are to die for.
The real worry is what happens when we get back to my mother’s and no longer have a buffer.
I notice Cole passed out between his parents. Smiling in spite of my reluctance, I say, “Looks like we’d better get going. Little guy can’t hack it.”
Livvie covers a yawn and laughs. “Apparently I can’t either.”
The boys groan and inwardly, I agree. I’d much rather stay at Livvie’s than go back to my mother’s house and face reality.
“Thanks again for having us over,” I tell them, instead of begging them to let me stay.
“Anytime,” Ben says with a smile.
Donnie and Rafe lumber to the front door with Livvie and I following close behind. I can hear the comforting sound of Ben humming to Cole as he makes his way toward the back of the house, presumably to lay Cole down for the night.
“And you’ll think about what I said?”
“I probably won’t stop thinking about it for the foreseeable future.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Your friends are nice,” Donnie says as we walk back to my car.
“Yeah, they’re pretty great.” I catch his eye over his brother’s head and smile.
“I can see why you visit them instead of us,” Rafe spits out.
I sigh. So much for the laughing and smiling, I guess. There’s no use in making excuses. The only thing I can do is use this time to make it up to them.
The ride home is silent and charged with Rafe’s accusation and my own shame. It’s not entirely unfounded, but whatever. He’s just a kid. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
By the time we reach Mom’s house, I’ve resolved to ignore Livvie’s advice. Clearly, I’m not cut out for this caretaker gig.
Donnie’s easy smile is gone and the sugar high has reached the crash stage on Rafe’s part. As they skulk back to the house, a fluttering sound draws my attention to the porch, and then to the front door where a piece of white paper is stuck between the screen door and the frame.
It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. My fingers adhere to the door handle and my insides turn to ice.
The boys wait on the porch, turned to me, identical eyebrows raised. They look so small, dwarfed by the extravagant lines of the porch. I have the most ridiculous urge to get them, shove them, just, take them away. Anything to keep them from being tainted by this place and my own mistakes.
Swallowing down the bitter mix of fear and bile, I step out of the car on shaky knees. I clear my throat, my eyes burning, and slowly walk toward the steps.
“You okay?” Donnie asks, peering at me with furrowed brows.
I ruffle his hair, his sweet face distracting me from my panic. “I’m fine. Thanks. Let’s get you guys inside.”
The paper is innocuous, really. To anyone else, it would seem to be an advertisement. Maybe one of those church group info cards, but I know better.
Boy, do I know better.
I get them inside and to their rooms without much protest. No doubt the past few days have worn them out. While the house grows quiet around me, I retreat to the office, where I’ve made a camp of sorts. Nothing could have made me take my old room, and I couldn’t very well take my mom’s. The mere thought gives me goosebumps.
I turn the lamp on and boot up my computer, thinking maybe I’ll get some work done to take my mind off things. In reality all I do is stare at the screen, contemplating the piece of paper waiting on the corner of the desk.
When I do, I know it will open every single thing I’ve been running from. The solid life I’ve built for myself, the careful distance I’ve cultivated between me and everyone else, it’ll all evaporate.
Then again, I’m rarely able to resist temptation.
But isn’t this what I was hoping for when I came back? Didn’t I want to face the demons that drove me away.
I rip open the piece of clear tape.
Nassau is a small town. Small enough that minor events make waves.
Sofie Varano’s return has the potential to wipe out small civilizations.
“Have you made a move yet?” Ben asks. He hisses out a breath as he tries to max out his bench weight at 315 lbs.
I frown at the line of questioning, already tempted to let the bar slip just a little to crush his windpipe so we don’t have to have this conversation. Not a lot, just enough so that he can’t talk about it anymore.